


Five Things that Never Happened to Stokely Mitchell

by sophinisba



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: 5 Things, 5000-10000 Words, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Apocalypse, Drugs, F/F, One of My Favorites, Teacher-Student, Tentacles, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-11
Updated: 2006-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:11:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Some of my first femslash.  *fond*  Heartfelt thanks to Dana for support throughout the writing of this and to Aprilkat for a fantastic beta job at the end.</p><p>Elements from several parts of this series were used by Cesare for the Casey/Zeke fic <a href="http:"></a>Meltdown for the <a href="http:"></a>Fandom Mashup Challenge.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Maybe We Really Win

**Author's Note:**

> Some of my first femslash. *fond* Heartfelt thanks to Dana for support throughout the writing of this and to Aprilkat for a fantastic beta job at the end.
> 
> Elements from several parts of this series were used by Cesare for the Casey/Zeke fic [](http:)Meltdown for the [](http:)Fandom Mashup Challenge.

Stokely thinks Casey shouldn't have gone straight to Mr. Furlong with the thing he found, but she understands the impulse. If she'd found it, she would've gone straight to Rosa, even though she doesn't trust the rest of the faculty. So Casey has one teacher he trusts, and Stokely has the school nurse.

Not that that's how she thinks of her, though of course that is how it started out. Stokely has asthma and all the gym teachers know it, but that didn't stop Willis from forcing her to run the mile along with everyone else in ninth grade, and the attack that set off was more than her inhaler could take care of. It was Stan Rosado, of all people, Stan who'd never even spoken to her before that day, who held her through the crisis and talked her through the panic; it was Casey who ran inside to get the nurse. (Both boys had been making good time, and Willis yelled at them for stopping, and said they'd have to run it again tomorrow, but they ignored him.) Miss Harper, once she got there, didn't actually do anything to help Stokely through the attack, but she did scream her own lungs out at Willis, called him a bully and a sadist and a fucking irresponsible moron. And it didn't help Stokely to calm down, but it did make her feel stronger.

Really, as a nurse, she wasn't worth a whole hell of a lot. But she was an ally, and a friend, and before that day Stokely hadn't thought she had any friends at Herrington High.

That day, once Stokely could walk, Harper brought her back to the nurse's office and let her lie down and sleep through algebra. When Stokes woke up, Miss Harper was staring at her, and while Stokes was trying to remember what had happened the nurse said, "Don't waste your time with that boy. He's not good enough for you. These jocks" -- and she waved her hand vaguely in the air, and Stokely stared, dumb with sleep, awed with beauty -- "they don't understand about what women need at all."

And it hadn't happened right away. After the surprise of that first day it had all been gradual, had all been gentle. Miss Harper was the person Stokely went to for advice, whether it was about health (her asthma, her cramps so painful she couldn't sit through class, her mom's depression, her own) or teachers (the way Mr. Willis kept making her run, the way Mrs. Olson made fun of her writing in front of the whole class, the way Mr. Tate's eyes and hands lingered just a little bit longer on her than on any of his other students) or, well, anything else she was curious about.

It wasn't long after the mile incident before Stokes started getting herself off with wet fingers, thinking about Rosa Harper's tongue. And though she didn't come out and say it right away -- she talked around it -- Rosa was the first person she ever told that she sometimes thought about girls "that way". The fact that Rosa didn't seem surprised in the least was a little bit unnerving (did _everybody_ know?) and at the same time reassuring.

"All women think about that, " Rosa said, "only most of them never say anything about it because somebody told them that real women only want real men." Real women, Stokely thought, are like you.

Their first kiss (sitting on that same bed in the nurse's office, with the shades down and the door locked) wasn't for a long time after that, not till the fall of Stokely's junior year; and she didn't actually get to have Rosa's tongue on her (on Rosa's bed, in Rosa's house, on a Saturday afternoon with the sun shining warm through the skylight) until the spring.

She's told her parents she has a boyfriend and that's why she doesn't come home some nights. They say something every once in a while about wanting to meet him, see if he's good enough for their daughter, but it's always _in a couple weeks, once I get this place cleaned up_ or _after your mom starts feeling better_, and Stokely doesn't take the threat too seriously. It's true Rosa would be fired if anybody found out, but really, no one's paying enough attention to either of them for Stokely to feel like they're in any danger

So she's comfortable, by the fall of her senior year, telling her lover whatever she feels, including the fact that she's scared, because Casey found this thing on the football field, and some of the faculty are acting so strange.

She's scared, but she's still comfortable, and she doesn't mind it when Rosa locks the door and lowers the shades. Doesn't think anything of it when Rosa wraps her arms around her and tells her not to worry. And even Rosa's tongue in her ear isn't exactly typical, but it isn't the first time either. So Stokely's almost relaxed, when the tongue withdraws and the tentacle penetrates instead. It doesn't even hurt, not really. Everything is gentle, gradual, right up to the end, when any distance that ever existed between them is gone, and Stokely feels contented, connected, and complete.

And after that there's no question of keeping anything secret. "So Casey thinks he can resist?" Rosa says quietly. Stokely understands what she has to do, and it's easy. Casey trusts her, after all.

The next morning he tries to pull her into the biology classroom with the others, but Stokely moves them to the storeroom, where Zeke is already making out with Marybeth. Zeke is caught off guard, though he tries to act cool. The girls smile at each other in complicity. Casey is staring at Zeke; he looks angry, jealous.

"You want some of that, Casey?" says Stokely. And his eyes bug out even more than before, but he's not saying no. Casey really wants Zeke, but he's never gotten any from anybody, and he's not gonna say no to Stokes. She doesn't go for his ear, because he's suspicious already and he would pull away from that. But she kisses him on the mouth, and Marybeth kisses Zeke again. And both the boys are still a little nervous and weirded out, but after a little while they relax.

And it's easy. The tongue opens them up, the parasite follows and reaches in deeper. When they pull apart, all four of them smile.

"Let's get the fuck outta here," says Zeke. And they go back to the hallway, and join in with the crowd.


	2. So Eighties

It's an eighties drug, she says, though she was nine when the eighties ended and, no, she wasn't doing drugs back then. She doesn't do any now, but she has. No needles, nothing up her nose, because that's pathetic and disgusting. And yet somehow she's never had any aversion to swallowing pills, even if the effect is a lot more severe than what Stan and Zeke and Casey are going through now.

She hates Zeke for a few seconds, for insisting on this now, for getting everyone high just now when they need to be at their most alert, to be aware of what's going on. Because it's not just the stuff Delilah and Stan were saying out loud; no one is acting the way they should, and Stokes wants to be sober so she can pay attention to who's not acting like himself. (The hostility is normal. The gun was unexpected, but Zeke and Stan pointing at each other, that's just Zeke and Stan being boys; who's stronger, whose is longer. Casey giggling isn't weird, it's just like Casey when he's not scared, something no one else here has seen before. But Stan looking at Stokes, and not looking mad, that's not normal. Might be they've got Stan.) Or who's not acting like herself. (Delilah hasn't taken it yet. Delilah, if you ignore the fact that she's in the same room with Casey and Zeke and Stokely at all, is acting like her usual self, and Stokes would like to shoot her just for that. And what about Marybeth? No one even knows her. How are we even supposed to know how she should be acting?)

She's angry at Zeke, but then she catches the look on his face as he's watching Casey. It's there for less than a second and she doesn't think Casey's noticed, and it could be even Zeke doesn't realize it himself, but it's there. Zeke looks like a big brother, and looks like a father, and looks like a lover. He wants to protect Casey, wants Casey to be all right (to be himself), wants Casey to trust him. And that look makes Stokely want to trust him too, even though she won't show it. So she still acts annoyed, still acts like she thinks Zeke is an idiot, because she does, but now she thinks he's a well-intentioned idiot and, for that matter, a fool in love, and that makes her willing to follow his lead for the time being. She shrugs, she makes a face, she sticks the thing up her nose and snorts it in.

And at first it's just a shock of pain in her nose and in her eyes, which never happened when she swallowed anything. It takes a little while for the rest of her to feel any different, and when she does, it isn't happy, isn't loose, certainly isn't an urge to join in with Casey and now Stan giggling on the couch. And she doesn't want to be with the other girls and their fucked up rivalry either, and she doesn't trust the boy who gave her this fucking drug, doesn't trust his good intentions with Casey or with her or with this planet.

He could be. She didn't suspect him before, didn't think he was acting differently at all. Because Stan might not have realized Zeke was a science genius but that was only because Stan wasn't paying attention. Stokely hadn't been surprised by anything Zeke had said or done until she saw the way he looked at Casey a minute ago. Only looking again she thinks he looks possessive when he looks at Casey, thinks he looks predatory. Like a cat who wants to play with a mouse, or a scientist ready to dissect him. Or an alien ready to suck out his soul through his ear.

"Don't you touch him," Stokely says, eyes narrowed; and Casey giggles, louder than before. The laugh sounds alien, and it echoes in her ears. She looks at his face and tries to think _I've known him since kindergarten_ but can only think _not human, those eyes cannot be human_. "What are you laughing at?" she says.

"It's just the scat, Stokely," Zeke says, and she doesn't know if he means the scat making Casey brainless or the scat making her paranoid, and she doesn't care. She doesn't believe him.

Stan's still laughing a little himself, but he gets it under control enough to say, "Stokes, hey, calm down. Zeke's right, it's just the scat. It doesn't affect everybody the same way."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a kid, Stan. You're the dumb jock here."

"Hey, hey." He stands up. He's not steady on his feet, but he starts lurching towards her. "No need to be calling names. You just got a bad hit is all."

Lurching, like a monster, like one not accustomed to this manlike, boylike, Stanlike body. Casey's starting to come out of it, just enough to look at Stokes like he's a little bit scared of her. And why shouldn't he be, really? What does she have to tell her for sure that she's not one of them herself. It could be in the air or the water by now. It could be any of them, all of them.

Stokely picks up the gun.

"Come on, honey, you don't wanna do that."

Marybeth's right next to her, a hand on her shoulder, insinuating. And Stokely realizes then that Marybeth and Delilah still haven't taken the drug. She spins around, trying to shove Marybeth away from her, and while she's distracted Casey grabs the gun from her hand and turns it on Stokely.

"Not me," she says, and she's backing up without thinking, and she bumps into the still and knocks it down.

That's when Zeke says, "She did it on purpose. Shoot her, Casey."

"I didn't, Zeke. It was an accident, I swear."

Then Zeke is yelling at Casey and Stan is yelling at Zeke and Stokely is screaming, crying, and hates herself for not being able to stay calm. Calm and cool like Delilah and Marybeth, waiting for the scene to play out. Stokely tries to look into his eyes. "It's not me, Casey, please, it's not -- "

But she knows it's hopeless. Who's Casey gonna believe, after all? Whose orders is Casey gonna take if not Zeke's? Zeke goes quiet again, "Do it, Casey," and he does.


	3. Limitless Oceans

It was hard watching Stan through the glass of the gym door, harder pretending to be surprised. Of course they'd gotten him too. Stokely had been ready for him then, ready to take him on, just as she was ready now, but she couldn't make them understand that. Zeke had decided he was in charge, and he thought Stokely was being naïve when she wanted to open the door. But it was just as well, really for the best that Zeke left with Casey, even if it meant the two of them were in more danger now. Really what she'd needed all along was a few minutes alone with Marybeth.

Because Stokely was the only one who saw, back in Zeke's garage. She saw that it was both of them, one with worms under her skin and the other with tentacles at her fingertips. Or maybe she wasn't the only one who saw. Maybe everybody saw it and no one else bothered to react because they'd all been turned into aliens already anyway. That was why Stokely didn't say anything. Just kept the knowledge to herself and kept the box of caffeine pills in her pocket. Either no one cared or no one noticed -- Stokely had years of shoplifting behind her and she was just as subtle and deft with her fingers as Marybeth if not more so.

Stokely decides she's had enough of listening quietly with her head in her hands, so she turns around to face the enemy. "You're pretending too?" she says, and she keeps her eyes wide and shining, even though she's not really surprised by what's happening.

"Just a front, is that it?" says Marybeth, smiling sweetly, tucking Stokely's hair back behind her ear the way Stokely does for herself when she's nervous. "Just a screen you put up to get those big mean boys to leave you alone?"

"I didn't think I could trust you," Stokely answers truthfully. "How did you know?"

"Oh, I know all about pretending, Stokely. I know about pretending to be a sweet innocent young thing and I know about pretending to be straight. And I'm _damn_ good at it -- just ask Zeke." They both smile. "You, on the other hand, are not pretending. Or you weren't when I first met you. You have been today, though. All this throwing yourself at Stan, honey, it really doesn't suit you. I know you're not any more interested in him than I am in Zeke or any of these boys."

"I guess you're just a better liar than I am." Shy, embarrassed, mumbling, that's the way. She can do this.

"But we can stop pretending now, can't we?"

"Yeah." Stokely takes a breath, reaches out, strokes the fine blond hair, just once, kisses the right side of Marybeth's jaw. "The others won't be back for a while, we can -- "

"I don't think we need to worry about the others," Marybeth says calmly. And the statement should be frightening, but Stokely doesn't let it faze her. She nods, moves her hand to the buttons of Marybeth's blouse, nods again when Marybeth says, "We'll be fine here."

It isn't logical at all. Marybeth is good-looking but that doesn't mean that Stokely would try to fuck her on the bleachers of the high school gym if she were in her right mind and didn't have anything up her sleeve or under her tongue. But if Marybeth isn't bothered by the lack of logic, Stokely won't dwell on it. She pushes Marybeth down and lies on top of her, on a lower step in between seats. She smells wood and sweat and thinks of basketball games and pep rallies and a thousand people stamping their feet in rhythm with school spirit, and she moves her leg in between Marybeth's, shoves up her skirt and tugs lightly at her hair.

"Stan didn't look unhappy," Marybeth murmurs, shifting their positions slightly, touching the back of Stokely's waist to make her shiver and sliding one hand under her sweater and the other under her skirt.

"No," Stokely agrees, "he said there was no pain." And then they stop talking.

There's no pain for Stokely either. For the first few minutes it's all as awkward and uncomfortable as she would have imagined sex in her high school gym, had she ever tried imagining such a thing. The air is hot and humid and both girls are slippery with sweat. Knees and elbows knock painfully against each other and against the wood, and Stokely can't get the balance or the leverage to move her hand under Marybeth's skirt the way she'd like. But pretty soon she stops trying to coordinate it all and just lets it happen, lets Marybeth touch _her_. She holds on to enough concentration that she'll remember not to kiss her on the mouth, not yet, but the rest of her body she gives over.

And then it's there, the feeling she's always hoped for, though she never did quite dare to imagine it. She's been with guys and girls before and she knows about the touch of fingers and the touch of a tongue, soft and strong at the same time, pressure and wet and warmth. She knows how to use her own fingers and her tongue to make a girl scream or make her shudder and moan. And she might have wanted something like this before, but when she was giving she's never been able to reach all the places she wants at once, and when she was getting she's always wanted more. And the touch she feels now is all over her like hands and fingers, and it's intimate like a tongue. And it's not even anywhere close to her clit but it's the back of her thigh and the back of her neck and the back of her ear, and it's gliding across her belly and licking up her arm and under all at once, and Stokely's whole body is thrumming and floating and ready to burst it's so strong. And Stokely buries her face in Marybeth's hair and nuzzles at her neck so she won't be tempted to let their mouths touch. Because that's what she wants, the kiss, but she knows she's still not ready for that (she knows what she'll have to do then). And it's getting harder and harder to resist, so she keeps her tongue pressed down while she bites harder and harder at Marybeth's neck.

And Marybeth doesn't complain, just keeps touching her, and Stokely knows there's no way four human limbs and a tongue could do this much. Of course, she knew going into it that there would be more, but it's still a shock to feel them and she's glad she can't see for now. But she can feel two tentacles sliding slick and sweet and unstoppable around her legs, creeping closer and tighter between them, and there's another one looping around her right arm and, God, one around her neck, twisting with the chain necklace, wrapped around just once and not too tight, but it could go tight any moment if Marybeth wanted it to; it could choke her, and there's no way Stokely can pull away unless Marybeth decides to let her.

But that's for the best, that's part of the plan too, because they're tangled up enough at this point, between the elbows and the bleachers and the twining, twisting limbs, that Stokely knows it won't end once she does what she has to do. Neither one of them will be able to pull away before the end. Which means, as much as she'd like to keep going on like this, that it's time, it has to be. She sucks hard up along the side of Marybeth's neck and under her ear, and then, yes, now, to her mouth, and Marybeth is ready for her, her mouth an open O as Stokely covers it, and brings up the capsule from under her tongue and bites, hard, and ignores the taste and the texture of the powder in their mouths and just pushes, shoves it down into Marybeth's throat with her tongue, as hard and as fast as she can, fucking the pretty blonde girl's mouth like her life -- and everyone's life -- depends on it.

She isn't sure it's going to work. She knows caffeine's just a diuretic that makes you piss, it doesn't just make you dry up, so it _shouldn't_ work, it really shouldn't, and it shouldn't have worked with the scat pens either, but it's the only hope she has. And it isn't fast this time like it was with the pens; there's no dramatic fizzing or wild convulsions, but the reaction is immediate. Marybeth knows something is wrong but she doesn't, can't pull away, so she pulls tighter. And Stokely feels the tentacle tightening around her throat, feels her face swelling with blood, and before she knows it she's kicking back, struggling mindlessly like an animal under attack, and her fingers are feet are going numb but all the while Marybeth's touch has her writhing and trying to get more.

Stokely isn't scared, not really. Because if it works then it works and she's stopped the invasion and saved the world. If it doesn't work she might sink in this ocean and lose herself, or she might just die, but the end will be nothing but bliss. Because she can feel it coming now. Marybeth is agitated and desperate and moving faster, and that's moving every limb deliciously against every surface of her skin, and Stokely would scream if she had her mouth free.

Her mouth is where she feels the change first. Marybeth was wet like oceans before but now she's losing it, and she's trying to get moisture any way she can. So it's the tongue first, sucking where before she was trying to push Stokely out, and then it's those two skinny little tentacles that snaked their way between her legs and under her panties. They've never tried to push in and they don't now, but they _pull_ even as they rub against her, because it's happening now, the alien queen is drying up and everywhere she touches Stokely's human body it's like she's sucking at the skin, and sucking at her cunt so hard and so wrong and so fucking _good_ and Stokely's cunt gives back with everything she's got. The dam breaks and the queen drinks it all up, all the way up to the tears from her face, and shrivels back and away, leaving Stokely wrecked and abandoned, empty and limp like a wrung-out rag.

And that's how Casey finds her when he runs back into the gym, alone. Stokely can't even stand to move until he climbs up and tells her it's all right, that it's over, and then she realizes she still can't move because she's still tangled tight in the alien corpse. But the tentacles and even the arms and legs are light and brittle now, like dried up vines. So it doesn't take much of Casey's strength to pry them away. And if it scares him or if it disgusts him he gives no sign, just works methodically until she's free and then helps her kneel up and crawl away. And she doesn't have it in her to cry or to throw up or to ask if Stan's still alive. She just lets him hold her close and breathes the hot air in the gym, dry and electric and prickling at her skin.


	4. Trekkie Sci-Fi Freak Who's Been Right So Far

The radio reception quit two days ago, and Stokely never got around to buying a TV for this place. Last time she saw a TV was a week ago at Julie's apartment downstairs. After that she stocked up on canned goods and bottled water, and she hasn't gone outside since.

Julie had called her the day before that. Said, "Um, Stokely, you're from Ohio, right?" She knew Stokely didn't have her own TV or an Internet connection, knew that when she listened to the radio it was mostly for the music, and she was more likely to read books than read newspapers. So she'd guessed Stokely hadn't heard the news, and she was right. "There's some crazy shit going on there, it looks like. I mean, Pennsylvania and some other places now too, and they're talking about it spreading to the City. But they say it all started in this little place called Herrington."

"Say _what_ all started in Herrington?"

"Maybe you better come down here and check it out."

Julie really just wanted an excuse to get her friend on her couch, and Stokely understood that. But she needed to get her news from somewhere, and Julie's apartment wasn't a bad place to get food either. (Her parents were from China and they'd raised her well, at least as far as cooking went. They weren't as pleased with the _lifestyle_ she'd adopted, but she had her own apartment now so that wasn't too much of a problem.) The couch was comfortable, and the sex, well, the sex was never anything life-altering, but it was better than anything she'd had in Ohio. So she went downstairs to find out what was going on.

Stokely had given up on Herrington, high school, and heterosexuality a little over six months ago, around the time Stan started going out with Delilah Proffitt and Stokes realized that any person who could stand to be around Delilah was not someone she should care about. And anyway, she realized when she looked at them together, as horrible a human being as Delilah was, Stokes was still more attracted to her than to Stan.

Casey Connor had gone to see her off at the Greyhound station, said, "So, you're really leaving me on my own with these monsters after all, huh?" and Stokely hadn't said anything, had hugged him awkwardly and gotten on the bus, and hadn't looked back.

The news report on Julie's TV was the first she'd seen of Herrington since then. It didn't actually look that different.

"Thank God you left when you did, huh?" said Julie, who was raised in New York and probably would have found Ohio horrific with or without the suspicious string of deaths and disappearances being reported on the news.

"Yeah," Stokely agreed. She felt Julie's fingers smooth at the back of her neck and, for the first time ever, shook her head, and shifted away.

The radio reception quit two days ago, and then the banging on her apartment door started up, and went on for hours, until Stokely couldn't take it anymore and withdrew into the bathroom, with its flimsy little latch on the door, with water and canned corn and fruit roll-ups. She's been waiting here for two days, resisting the urge to keep eating just so she'll have something to do. Because she has to make the food she has last. Because if she can just hold out long enough they'll go away. They'll leave her alone. They'll take whatever it is they need and they'll leave New York City to her and whoever else was antisocial enough not to need any human contact for a few days, a few weeks, however long it takes. And the outcasts shall inherit the earth, she thinks. She hopes.

Not likely, not likely at all that Casey's made it through whatever happened at home. He was a loner, sure, maybe even more of one than Stokes. But it would have been harder to hide back in Herrington. Thank God she got away, she thinks, huddled in her bathtub, trembling, hungry. Thank God she left Ohio.


	5. Getting Kinda Used To It

That's Madelyn, her second, getting on the bus with her big sister Jenny to go to kindergarten for the first time, smiling as she waves goodbye. And Sally, with the baby in one arm, waves back, happy for her little girl, heading off to make new friends and learn what her teachers have to tell her.

She's happy for Maddie, for both of them, but it hurts a little too, seeing them grow up so fast. In another few years little Michael will be leaving too, and then Sally will have all day to herself here at home. And that will be all right too, Lord knows she has enough work to keep her busy, but it's a little sad to think about. She doesn't like to think of getting older, or of being alone.

Then Michael's talking, babbling at her in his own baby language and looking at her with big brown eyes like she _ought_ to understand, and it makes her laugh out loud and lift him up in the air. And she's happy again to live in this present, to raise her children, to love and be loved.

This is the good life, Sally thinks. She's ended up exactly where she's supposed to be. And everyone she knows feels the same way. Most of the world has been brought around by now; almost everyone's found the same peace and contentment Sally and Stan have. Every once in a while you hear rumors, but Sally really can't understand why anyone wouldn't want a life like this. Sure, she has moments of restlessness, times when she wonders how things could have gone differently, but that's only normal. And it always passes quickly enough. Really, she thinks, as she feeds her beautiful baby boy, what more could a woman ask for than this?

A few hours later she's put Michael down for a nap, and when the mail comes, to her surprise, there's a letter for her. Stranger still, it's not addressed to Mrs. Stan Rosado but to Stokely Mitchell! Mitchell is a name she hasn't used in ten years, since she married Stan, and she stopped using Stokely the year before that, back in her senior year of high school, just after she started going out with Stan. (Her new friend Delilah, who'd also helped her come up with simpler, more elegant look, had suggested the change.) There's no return address, but the stamps have funny writing on them and the postmark is from Bombay.

She looks at the envelope while she's still standing on the doorstep, and April Hansen from next door waves hello. Sally smiles, waves, decides to step inside before she opens the letter. She takes it out, unfolds the paper, and reads,

  
Stokely,   



She folds it up again. And for no reason she can understand, she goes into the bathroom and locks the door.

  
Stokely,

     Zeke says I shouldn't write to you, that it's dangerous and pointless. He says that once you see our names and know that we're still free you'll report us... or you won't even need to, that the information will just become part of the greater mind without you having to say anything. Don't tell me I'm paranoid, he says, it's not paranoia if it's true. And I laugh and say he's not paranoid enough if he thinks the greater mind doesn't know exactly who we are and what we're up to already.

     I haven't tried getting in contact with anyone else from our old life, Stokes, but I can't help thinking that if anyone on the inside could be sick of it, if anyone could be part of it and still want out, it would be you. You used to be a rebel, Stokes, do you remember that? Back when we were in high school, before Zeke and I left town.

     I've talked to other people who've been commuted and they say they don't remember the precise moment when it happened, don't remember when everything changed, and don't remember anything from their lives beforehand all that clearly. I wonder if you can, Stokely. I talked to you in the library one time about the books you used to read and the movies you watched. Do you remember that? You used to read a lot of science fiction, stories about robots and monsters and aliens. I told you I thought there might be aliens in our school, and you didn't want to believe it at first, but then you saw what happened to Mr. Furlong and what happened to Delilah at Zeke's place. And you were on our side. You were going to help us fight them.

     Zeke and I went out to get some stuff from his car and I didn't say goodbye to you, Stokes, because I figured I'd see you again in a few minutes. But once we were out there some of the others started coming for us and Zeke told me to get in and we just started driving. I think we were the only ones to get out of Herrington that night. We've been running ever since. The aliens followed us everywhere we went and there doesn't seem to be a place on earth that they haven't reached by now, but we keep running, and we're not alone anymore.

     Stokely, you don't need to stay where you are. You don't need to be part of it anymore. I know you thought back then that the only way to undo this was to kill the queen, but we've met a woman here in India who can get individual people back. She lays her hands on them and she's able to reach the part that never got touched by the greater mind, and bring that back, bring back your own mind and your own self. Don't you miss the woman you used to be, Stokes? Don't you want to find out who you could have become? Our friend has taught her technique to other people and she's working on teaching Zeke and me. By the time you get this letter we won't be in India anymore, of course, and I can't tell you where we're going, but you can get in touch with us by leaving a message with the phone number at the bottom of this letter. If you can get to Miami we can get you out of the country and to somewhere safe. There are safe places still. Not whole cities anymore, but there are apartments, there are places out in the wild where people are still thinking for themselves. There is a resistance, Stokes, and it needs you.

     I'd so love to see you again, Stokes. It's not completely hopeless, even now. You can get out any time you want. Please get in touch with us.

Your friend,  
Casey   





_Stokely_, she thinks, _the woman you used to be, the woman you could have become_. So funny of him to keep repeating that name over and over again. Casey always was such a strange boy. Such a surprise to hear from him; she always had wondered where he and Zeke had gotten away to.

_Stokes_. People used to call her that. A sullen girl, with dark clothes and too much eye make-up. An unhappy girl, back in high school, before she started going out with Stan. Sally tries to remember the books Casey says she used to read, tries to understand why such unlikely and unlikable things would have interested her. And why would Casey think she'd want to go back to that, or give up what she has now? Her marriage to Stan, her three beautiful children, her beautiful house? Why would anyone want to leave Herrington? Why would anyone want to resist this?

_It's not completely hopeless_. Well, of course it's not! She shakes her head, thinking Casey must be confused and misguided, but he shouldn't be held to blame for anything that's happened. He and Zeke must have had a hard time of it, all these years on the run. They really don't need any more trouble, and Casey _was_ always a good friend before he went away, so she won't bother to say anything to Stan about it. Or to her friends, April or Delilah or Marybeth. Best she not mention it to anyone at all, come to think of it.

It's probably best if Stan doesn't see the letter either, she decides (and the decision surprises her, because it's not like her to keep anything from him). She looks down at the paper in her hands and reads the phone number at the bottom. It's only ten digits long, and she always was good at noticing and remembering details like that.

_Do you remember that?_

Within minutes she's burned up the letter with Stan's cigarette lighter and dropped what was left in the toilet and flushed. And gone back to the baby's room to check on him while he sleeps, peaceful. This is the good life, she tells herself.

But the phone number is easy. Stokely won't forget.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Five Things that Never Happened to Stokely Mitchell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9662681) by [sophinisba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba)




End file.
